Bompton

Six in the morning, police at my door

Woulda seen them **** coming but the cameras is broke

My **** Ant in the kitchen cookin' up for a week

And my little homie Pooh on my mama couch sleep

We cookin' base, we cookin' base

We cookin' base, we cookin' base

Fifty grams on the table, a key in the couch tucked

And it's time to break it down 'cause everything getting flushed

Looking out the window, tryin' to find the way out

Seen the SWAT team creeping on the side of the house

They threw a canister through the window and shattered the glass

So I went into the closet and pulled out my gas mask

It's getting funky, it's getting funky

It's getting funky, it's getting funky

It's getting funky, it's getting funky

And I'd die 'fore I'd go back to jail

Tell them **** this is

Bompton, Bompton, Bompton, Bompton

Bompton, Bompton, Bompton, Bompton

It's getting funky, it's getting funky

It's getting funky, it's getting funky

It's getting funky, it's getting funky

**** fuck the cops

They supposed to have my house surrounded, but it's not

So I'm hopping over the back gate with my Glock

Crossing Wilmington with fifteen hundred in my sock

Look across the street they runnin' in and out my spot

Ant on the curb in cuffs

And Pooh don't know what's goin' on 'cause he just woke up

Tilt my Cincinnati fitted walked in and out the store

Ain't find no drugs or guns, so they let my **** go

We supreme, we mix that Sprite with that promethazine

Hop in that Cutlass, hit the switch, and flee the scene

Euro coming up the block looking like a monster

Chuckin' up P's when we ridin' through

Bompton, Bompton, Bompton, Bompton

Bompton, Bompton, Bompton, Bompton

Ridin' down Alameda everything was straight

Until we stopped at a light and ran into the Grapes

My heart beatin' like a fifteen inch with bass

'Cause I reached for my strap and it wasn't on my waist

I'm a fool, what kind of **** go to work without his tools?

And you off in Watts wearing red like its bool?

It's usually on sight with the Crips

My gun's stuck between the seats and them **** ain't trip

Bust a left on Imperial sliding on gold rims

Empty the guts out the Swisher then hop onto 110

Look around, I don't see one black and white

So we roll the windows up and hot boxed at the light, yeah

It's getting funky, it's getting funky

It's getting funky, it's getting funky

It's getting funky, it's getting funky

Watch Kobe score sixty on the Jazz now we headed back to

Bompton, Bompton, Bompton, Bompton

Bompton, Bompton, Bompton

Don't push me, 'cause I'm close to the edge

I'm tryin' not to lose my head